


Hooters 'verse

by pornographicrainbowlegs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Hooters 'verse, M/M, Pop Culture, Revenge, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornographicrainbowlegs/pseuds/pornographicrainbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU for where Stiles falls in like with the manager of the new Hooters that opens in town. Various shenanigans ensue.</p><p>Originally posted on LJ, I've moved all three parts of Hooters 'verse to here.</p><p>Chapter 1: A new Hooters opens in town</p><p>Chapter 2: A strip tease (mind the second-hand embarrassment I know you'll feel)</p><p>Chapter 3: Derek's revenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “Owl” In a Day’s Work

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written after I'd seen season 1. I did edit this a little from the original posting to fix some grammar, let me know if I missed anything!

There is a new Hooters coming to town. Stiles can see the “Opening Soon!” sign as he drives his Jeep back to the mechanic. Well, not exactly driving his jeep. More like riding in the passenger seat of the tow truck. “Look at that,” Stiles sides to the driver. The driver keeps a mean-mug and grips the steering wheel harder in such a way that even Stiles can tell the driver would rather the steering wheel was his neck.

But Stiles has never been known for his shutting up abilities. “Did you catch when it was opening? Maybe if my dad stops sneaking pork rinds I can take him there for a celebration or something. We’d have to pick something to celebrate. Maybe Tuesday. Or maybe if the Jeep doesn’t have to come back to the mechanic three days after I drive it home next time. Or! –“

“Can we please just drive in peace? It’s only three more miles.”

Stiles lets out a long suffering sigh and actually attempts to keep his mouth shut this time.

He brings up the Hooters later at Scott’s house while they’re playing Mario Cart. “D’ju see that a Hooters is coming to town?” Stiles asks, frantically releasing his turtle shells.

Scott curses as his racer veers off the course and spins out. “No.” Scott’s a man of little words when he loses. But he perks up a second later. “Wait, a Hooters? Best wings ever.”

“You should get Allison to apply,” Stiles jokes, pushing his shoulder into Scott’s.

Scott smirks, quite obviously thinking about Allison in the heinous orange and white uniform. Such a bonerwolf.

Stiles restarts the game.

Three weeks later the Hooters is open for business. Stiles knows because Allison really did apply. Scott talked about how she received her uniform. He was mad because she took their oath pretty seriously. Scott didn’t think that his bedroom was really “wearing the uniform in public” and felt rather jilted when she wouldn’t put on a fashion show for him. Stiles knew “fashion show” was really a code for “strip tease”.

_To: Allison  
You working tonight?_

_From: Allison  
Yah, u comin? first night! Gnna b busy!_

_To : Allison  
Fuck yeah!_

Stiles contemplates inviting his dad, but knows that his last numbers weren’t as good as they should have been. So instead, he calls up Scott. “Wanna see your girl in short shorts and a tight top?”

“Sorry, bro. Can’t.” And then he hangs up. Stiles supposes it’s appropriate that Scott doesn’t say goodbye since he didn’t say hello, except that doesn’t make it okay. Stiles sneers at his phone and makes faces as he shoves it in the pocket of his jeans.

“Blah blah blah, Scott, big wolf on campus has no time for Stiles.” He waves his hands in the air as he walks down the stairs. He swipes his keys off the counter and eyes his dad sitting at the table, newspaper up.

“Where are you going?” he asks, without dropping the paper.

“Uh. Uhm. Nowhere.”

“Very convincing,” the Sheriff says, this time letting the paper drop to show off his t’yeah-right face. “You don’t have to invite your old man out to Hooters. I suppose all your young’in friends will be out tonight.” He pauses and sighs dramatically.

Stiles smiles and starts towards the back door, tossing over his shoulder, “Yeah, you can’t guilt trip me anymore, I’ve long since lost the ability to feel –“

“I’ve got a credit card I’m willing to supply to sweeten the deal.”

His bank account is still hurting from the last time the Jeep took a shit. He sighs. “Get in, jackass. But it’s salads for the rest of the week!”

At least his dad has the decency to look guilty as they both walk to the Jeep.

They get to the Hooters and the parking lot is jammed, Grand Opening and all. “We’re probably going to have to wait,” Stiles comments as he takes the spot farthest from the building.

“At seven thirty on a Friday, we’d have to wait anywhere we went,” replies the Sheriff.

They walk up to the building and get their buzzer. Allison waves from by the kitchen as she balances a tray on one hip and taps on the computer screen. A man comes up behind her and says something Stiles obviously can’t hear over the din of the dinner guests. She smiles and laughs as she walks away. The man looks oddly confused, as if what he said wasn’t intended to be funny. Stiles sniggers at the face, but stops immediately as the man looks smolderingly in his direction. Stiles looks away quickly, even reaching back to brush his hand along his shaved head. He’d probably start whistling if he thought it would further convince this gentleman that he was indeed NOT eavesdropping on something he couldn’t hear anyway.

Two hours later, Stiles and his dad are patting bellies and Stiles briefly considers popping the button on his jeans. The only thing that stops that thought is that smoldering gentleman from earlier is headed straight at their table. “Hi,” he says after reaching the table. “I’m the manager, how was everything this evening?”

“Delicious,” John supplies when it’s clear Stiles is at a loss for words. 

“Perfect, let me know if you have any questions, my name is Derek.” Derek even slides a card on the table. “The back has a ten percent off coupon, come back to see us any time.”

They thank Derek and head back to the Jeep. Stiles gives in to the need to unbutton his jeans.

***

_To: Scott  
Am I attractive to guys?_

_From: Scott  
Bro, not the time._

_To: Scott  
Is that a no?_

_From: Scott  
Why is this even a thing?_

_To: Scott_  
 _Would it help if I went first?  
Cuz, I think you’re doable dude._

_From: Scott  
Fuck. Off. Not the time. New werewolf in town, I can smell it._

_To: Scott_  
 _Well if you’d have said that from the beginning…  
Let me know when you know, you know?_

_From: Scott  
STILES! Shut up!_

Stiles briefly wonders who the new werewolf is.

***

“Oh my god, Allison, you’re so amazing,” Stiles gushes as the burger he’d ordered are set on the table.

“I don’t make them, Stiles,” she giggles. “Anything I can get for you right away?”

“Ah, nothing, Just leave me and my juicy burger in this lovely, peaceful haven.”

Stiles practically ravages the burger, getting burger juices all over his chin. He would feel savage-ish, but the food tastes delicious. “Back again, I see.” Unsurprisingly, Derek managed to sneak up on the teen. He did not squeak. Nope.

“Uh, hey, Derek. How’s it hanging?” Stiles then feels only slightly mortified at his question. He now knows exactly how Jennifer Gray feels about watermelons.

“Business is good,” Derek carries on, unfazed. He lingers a moment too long before wishing Stiles a good meal and slipping another 10% coupon on the table.

“You’re gonna make me fat and broke,” Stiles mumbles. Derek, already ten yards away chuckles.

_Huh._

***

“I think I know who the new werewolf is,” Stiles says, breathing hard as he reaches Scott’s bedroom door. He grabs the knob and pushes it open, only to see Allison turning to cover and hide her naked bits.

“Get out!” Scott screams at Stiles. He tries not to, he really does, but Stiles is a fiend for details. He sees Allison’s orange shorts on Scott’s desk.

“Congrats bro!” Stiles says, already closing the door.

“Get out!” both Scott and Allison scream. Stiles retreats and shuts the door, barely avoiding getting pelted with a book.

Later, Scott rides his bike over to Stiles’ house. “So who’s this new werewolf?” he asks, grabbing two cans of Mountain Dew out of the fridge.

“Derek, from Hooters.” He pauses to drink some soda before going on, “Have you even been in to see your girl at work? Obviously not or you’d have known before I did. See, this is why I’m a better researcher than you. I’ve got Google down and now I’m out doing field work.” Scott gives him a look.

“What makes you so sure it’s him?” he asks.

Stiles thinks really hard for a second. “Well. I guess it’s just a suspicion – Hey don’t give me that look! It’s a valid suspicion. I’ve got real evidence.” Stiles flashes a grin.

“Well?” Scott asks, impatiently. “What evidence?”

Stiles thinks really hard, again. “Okay. Maybe just circumstantial evidence.” At Scott’s frown, Stiles elaborates. “Circumstantial, you know, like incidental, perhaps not with 100% certainly, maybe innocent until proven guilty –“

“Stop using words you pick up from your dad’s job and just explain the evidence!”

“Okay okay! So touchy!” He pauses and takes a breath, and maybe feels just a little unsure. “Just. He. Uhm. Well, you see –“

“Would you get on with it?”

“I think he overheard me at the Hooters the other night.” Scott’s frown deepens. “It’s loud in there!” Stiles explains, as if that’s clearly reason enough to deduce Derek is a werewolf. “He was like half way across the restaurant and looked up at something I said…and even now saying that out loud I understand why you don’t believe me. Just, uhm. Let it be known that I will say ‘I told you so’ later if it turns out I’m right.”

Scott rolls his eyes and heads back out the back door. “Call me if you have something more concrete.”

Stiles flips Scott the bird.

Two days later, Stiles finds himself back in booth 1B at the local Hooters. This is soooo not about the food, he tells himself, this is about gathering intel. He would almost believe his own lie, except he orders fried pickles, cheese sticks, and Cajun wings with plans for caramel fudge cheesecake as dessert.

Derek makes an appearance right as Stiles shoved a fried pickle in his mouth and made an absurdly obscene pleasure filled groan. Derek actually smiled. “Good stuff?” he asked.

“You don’t even know.” Stiles wonders how he should go about gathering the intel, and entertains the idea of just coming out and asking, but where’s the fun in that? “Sooooo,” Stiles says aloud, not really sure why Derek is still standing next to his table. Then it hits him. “What are you doing Friday night?” Derek actually blushes for a second.

“Uh, well, uh, working. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Stiles sighs and grabs another cheese stick and dunks it aggressively in the marinara. He thought he might have had Derek there. After all, Friday was the full moon. But if he’s working, he can’t be a werewolf, can he? Cuz working involves being around people, and by Stiles’ experience, Scott wasn’t good around people when he was all wolfed-out.

“I’m free Saturday,” Derek says suddenly, then slips another coupon on Stiles’ table before quickly stomping away.

Wait. What?

***

_From: Allison  
209-555-1289_

_To: Allison  
What is that?_

_From: Allison  
Derek’s number._

***

Stiles looks at his phone for a long time wondering what to do with this new information. And then wonders further about why Allison thought it was appropriate to give him this information.

He opens his fridge and sees nothing there. He debates going to the grocery store, but it is Friday night and he knows what sorts of mischief the supernatural beings can get into during a full moon. So instead, he finds himself calling for a pizza.

Pineapple and bacon, and not that Canadian stuff either. Delicious, real, fatty bacon. He will definitely have to finish this before his dad gets home from the night shift. Stiles pays the delivery man and takes the box up to his room. He turns on his computer and starts up a Skype session with Scott.

“Whatcha doin bud?” he asks, half a slice sticking out of his mouth while he types up part of an essay.

“Just getting pumped for the full moon,” Scott responds. It looks like he’s gathering up some laundry, which doesn’t exactly look like an activity one would do if they were trying to get pumped for anything.

“Cool.” Stiles says. “So I think you might have been right about Derek,” he continues. “The guy is supposed to work tonight, and obviously it being the full moon and all, I don’t think he can really wolf out.”

Scott flashes him a grin while picking up a lacy, polka dotted pair of panties. “S’cool dude, geniuses can’t be right all the time.”

They talk a little more about school, about how chemistry is kicking Scott’s totally fit tush and how Stiles should throw him a bone and study with him a night or two next week. Stiles points out that if Scott maybe wouldn’t spend every second sucking face with Allison, he might have time to study on his own, but yes, how about Monday at 4:45?

Scott says he’s going out to the woods to do his thing tonight since it would probably be less dangerous for everyone involved, and maybe he’ll run into the other werewolf out there.

“Does he smell threatening or something?” Stiles asks.

“No, not really. He’s just sort of there, but I’d really like to know who’s all up in my territory,” Scott says back, scrunching up his face as if he’s trying to remember the scent of the mystery man. “But I better go, it’s getting close.” They wave goodbye and Scott closes his laptop. Stiles, on the other hand, gets really into his paper for English and loses track of time entirely.

It’s nearly midnight before he looks at the clock again. He rereads his paper and realizes he probably can’t hand in an assignment about The Scarlet Letter that includes the phrase, “Maybe if the town had gotten as much tail as Hester, they wouldn’t be quite so douchy.” He guesses he didn’t realize his fingers were typing his inner monologue, because he certainly doesn’t remember writing it, even if it is the truth.

He did not have time to edit it now, though. He is much too tired. He hits save and closes his laptop before crashing into his bed. He wakes up a little later after hearing the garage door going up. He knows his dad’s routine, though. He’ll drink a glass of water, maybe do the dishes, probably “check the perimeter”, before finally going to bed. Stiles isn’t tired anymore after that nap, but he isn’t really want to keep his father up any later than – good god! Three AM? Something big must have happened for him to stay that late at work.

Stiles reaches to his phone and sends a quick text to Scott, asking if he caught scent of the other werewolf.

His phone goes off a minute later.

_From: Scott  
Yup._

***

Stiles finally decides he might have use for Derek’s phone number after all when Scott tells him where he’d caught scent of the other werewolf. “Can I say I told you so yet?” he asks to his computer.

“We don’t know for sure if it was him,” Scott insists.

“You smelled him at the Hooters, I’d say that’s pretty conclusive. Also, horrible boyfriend that last night was the first time you visited your girlfriend at work.”

“He wasn’t there at the time! Allison said he had an early shift. It could have been anyone,” Scott insisted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Catch’ya later.” Stiles closed his computer and grabbed his phone. He tapped out the message three times before he was satisfied.

_To: Derek  
Hey, it’s Stiles._

It’s actually almost two hours later before Stiles sees any response from Derek.

_From: Derek  
Hi_

This was going to be harder than he thought.

_To: Derek  
What did you do last night?_

_From: Derek  
Nothing._

Way harder.

Stiles was usually pretty good at difficult tasks, and especially good at talking, but he had other things to worry about. Like maybe editing his English paper so it didn’t include any tense of the word “douche”.

By Tuesday, though, he was out of excuses and sick of being prodded by Scott to figure this thing out. And also? Why couldn’t Scott do it? Oh, right, it would cut into his make out sesh’s with Al, which by the way was neither a cute phrase nor nickname, and the two together were nearly vom inducing.

So Stiles made his way to the Hooters and got a table for one, because his dad was most certainly not invited to an early grave. It was a slow night, only 10 or so tables were filled. Which then really confused Stiles why Derek hadn’t come over to his table yet.

The next day at school, Stiles cornered Allison at her locker. “Why is Derek ignoring me?” he asks.

Allison smiles up at him. “For a smart guy, sometimes you can be really stupid.”

“Ha. Haaaaa. Really, how cliché is that phrase? Seriously though, what does that mean? Why? Can you tell me or –“

“Maybe if you’d quit rapid-firing at me, I could try,” she says sweetly. Stiles wonders what sugar factory Allison was born in. He’d ask her, but now is not the time.

“Sorry, sorry. Please tell me?” he asks, a little slower this time.

“Well, usually when people get unceremoniously snubbed for a date proposal, they don’t usually want to encounter their crush until they’re a little more composed.”

Wait. What?

“Wait. What?”

Allison was too good a person to visibly roll her eyes, but Stiles would place a bet that that’s exactly what he deserved right at this moment. “You. He told you he was free Saturday, and you completely ignored him when I gave you his number.”

“Wait-that, was that? That was a – what?” Even Stiles had to wonder at his thick headedness. “He was asking me out?”

“Well, you asked him out first.”

“I did what now?”

“Derek said you asked him what he was doing Friday,” Allison prompted.

“Oh. My. God.” Crap. Crap, crap, double crap. “That wasn’t, I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but. That. Hadn’t been what my intention was.”

“I know what your intention was, and between you and Scott, I kind of wonder how you two function.” Even berating him, Allison sounded charming. “And yes, you were right. Go gloat to Scott, but cure Derek of his manpain first.” Allison made a shooing motion.

“Wait, I was right? How do you – how do you know? Right about what? I mean, I’m always right.”

“Stiles! Go away, I’m going to be late for class.”

And that is how Stiles found himself at the Hooters in Beacon Hills formally requesting that Derek take a break to talk to him in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. “We’re busy,” Derek says, “but I’ll be off in an hour.”

At least Stiles hadn’t gone all out Say Anything style and brought his boom box and track of “In Your Eyes”. That would have just been silly.

But he waits outside the Hooters, leaning on Derek’s Camero just in case the other man decided to make a quiet getaway.

“Hey,” Stiles perks up as he sees Derek leaving out the back door.

Derek’s eyes pinch for a second but he keeps walking towards his car. “Hey,” he says back.

“So.” Stiles says. He knows Allison said he was right, but does that really make it socially acceptable to ask Derek if he’s a supernatural creature of the night? Maybe.

“Yes,” Derek says without any prompting.

“Yes what?” Stiles asks, just in case.

His eyes pinch up again and Derek lets out a long sigh before responding, “Yes, I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles can’t help but fist bump the air, but it’s totally Breakfast Club, not Jersey Shore. “I knew it!” he shouts.

Derek just sort of stands there for a minute, and even Stiles isn’t sure what to do next. So he just sort of lets his arms fall to his side and looks at his hands for a moment before making eye contact with Derek. “Yes,” he says, smiling cuz now he knows what to say.

“Yes what?” Derek asks, confused and eye pinching expression returning to his face.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”


	2. The one in which Derek strips for Stiles

“Oh come on,” Stiles begs.

“No.”

“Please? I won’t tell anyone. You know, like, the first rule of stripping for your boyfriend is we do not talk about stripping for your boyfriend?” He says this hissed through his teeth. See, he can totally be cognizant of his surroundings. And the fact that there is an old couple walking through the door behind him.

“No.”

“But-“

“Seriously, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? Were you gone that day of kindergarten?” Derek is standing, arms crossed, at the podium host station at Hooters. “Besides, now is not the time or the place – Hello, good evening, how many?”

Derek grabs two menus and escorts the elderly couple to their seats. He flashes a look clearly directed at Stiles that says, _We are so done with this conversation, it’s over, never bring it up again._

Stiles flashes a grin that is supposed to mean, _In your dreams it’s over._

***

_To: Derek  
Give yourself over to absolute pleasure._

_From: Derek  
Really._

_To: Derek  
What? It was appropriate._

_From: Derek_  
 _Like the chicken dance, Rocky Horror quotes are never appropriate.  
Also, still not happening._

***

“Stiles!” Lydia calls. She is stomping down the catwalk – hallway – with purpose, hands on her hips, short skirt sashaying around her deliciously creamy thighs. Her heals are making a dangerously devilish click as each one clip-clip-clips towards him. Even though Stiles has boners only for Derek now, he can’t help but find the strawberry-blonde bombshell incredibly seductive.

“Yes?” His voice does not waver. Nope.

“I’m borrowing your Jeep.” She says it with such conviction, and holds hear hand out, elbow resting on her hips, sassy look so down pat she probably could hold a workshop to teach her ways to all the little people who surround her.

“It’s like your speaking to me, I know it,” Stiles replies. “Look, you're really cute, but I can't understand what you're saying. The Jeep is not up to be borrowed.” She just looks at him for a second, as if she’s never been told no, which obviously she hasn’t.

She squints up her face very quickly, as if considering how far she has to dumb down her next words for Stiles to understand them. “You see, this isn’t exactly a conversation. This is a, you hand me the keys to your Jeep, or I’ll tell Derek you broke the first rule of Strip Club.”

“You fight dirty, Lydia Martin,” Stiles huffs. But she gets her way and he digs out the keys from his pocket and drops them into her open palm. She snatches her hand back and flips her hair before walking away without a goodbye. “Thanks for the blackmail!” he calls after her.

***

“Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me!” Stiles screams as he walks in the back door.

Clearly startled, his father drops the bag of Lay’s Sour Cream and Onion potato chips. “Son, my numbers were phenomenal last time. I think I can sneak – ugh, Fine.”

“There are carrots in the fridge. I’ll start dinner.”

Baked cod, broccoli, and carrots were on the table in a half hour. Both Stiles and his father sat down to eat. “So, got any homework?” his father asked.

“Not exactly,” Stiles hedges.

“What does that mean? And please tells me it doesn’t mean I’ll be having another one-on-one meeting with Coach Cupcake.” There is definitely a pleading look on the Sheriffs face.

Stiles quirks an eyebrow. “Coach Cupcake? So not going to ask.” So Stiles and his father converse through dinner about how, no, there will be no need for a meeting with his teachers. However, there is a project he needs to work on that isn’t 100% school related but he needs supplies from the store, could he borrow the keys, please?

“Where’s the Jeep?” John’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not really sure,” Stiles says, helpfully. His dad sighs. “I know, I know exactly what you’re going to say. The Jeep is a huge responsibility and it’s property I need to take care of and I totally am, I just got the oil changed last week, doesn’t that count for something? It’s just that Lydia totally cornered me and blackmailed me and she’s just too cute to say no to and you know how it is with pretty girls.”

“Really, son, sometimes you do have the right to stay silent and I really do hope you use that if you ever get arrested.” His dad ponies up the keys. “I’ll get these dishes, you… go be a teenager.”

Stiles punches the air and hugs his dad before dashing out to his dad’s much-too-sensible Sedan. After adjusting the seat and the mirrors (and putting his seatbelt on, thank you accident on I-80), Stiles starts the car and reverses out of the driveway.

“I know what you’re thinking –“ Stiles starts to say, as he walks into the Hooters.

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me –“

“No.”

“Serious – “

“No. Stiles, I’ve got an interview in three minutes, I can swing by your house later tonight and we can talk then.”

“Interview? With who?”

And that’s about when Lydia Martin walked into the front door of the Hooters, black portfolio hanging from her fingers. “Good evening, Mr. Hale, if you’ll escort me to your office, we can begin when you’re ready.”

Derek gives a toothy grin at Stiles. “If you’ll excuse me, Stiles,” Derek tosses over his shoulder, already walking with Lydia to the back of the restaurant.

Stiles tried not to look dumbfounded, but as that was an impossible task, he just let his jaw drop. But for only a second. Seriously.

***

“I thought you said you wouldn’t rat me out,” Stiles says as Lydia walks towards him.

“I’m a woman of my word, Mr. Stilinski, I would never break that promise,” she says, reaching the Jeep.

“Then what the hell are you playing at?”

“Telling you would only ruin my fun. Now step away from the vehicle, I’ve got a few more stops on my list.” She makes a shooing motion at him and Stiles totally feels affronted.

“You won’t get away with this,” he says, and he’s not completely sure he was faking the ‘damsel in distress tied up in the boxcar’ inflection to his voice.

“You’ll never catch me,” Lydia sighs, and slams the door closed, driving off into the sunset.

And that is how Stiles totally neglected picking up the supplies for his not 100% school related project and bee-lined straight to the candy isle thinking, _You know how some people like to eat in the same places? Stiles like to get his candy on in the same places._

It’s not his fault Derek Hale is really, really ridiculously good looking. “Hey, Greenburg,” Stiles says as he hands his cash over.

“Hey, Stilinski. Bad night?” Greenburg asks eyeing up the selection.

“Shut up, Greenburg, no one asked you,” Stiles can only half heartedly reply. “Just. Boy issues.”

“I hear you,” Danny calls from the other register. “Tell me ‘bout it.”

And Stiles has never been known for his secret keeping skills. Which is how he totally spills the beans to Danny about Strip Club. “Err, I mean. Not Strip Club, strip tease,” Stiles corrects himself. “Can’t a guy get a little action?”

Danny just smirks at him. “It’ll all come together in the end.”

“Sage advice,” Stiles contemplates. “Thanks, bro. See you tomorrow.”

***

_To: Scott  
Hey_

_From: Scott  
Nope._

_To: Scott_  
 _You totally don’t even know what  
*beep – 1 New Message*_

_From: Scott  
Nope_

_To: Scott  
I didn’t even send you another text in there, you don’t know what I’m going to ask!_

_From: Scott_  
 _I’m not telling you how to get Derek to strip for you._  
 _This is not a thing I’m willing to talk about._  
 _I don’t want to know about your boners._

_To: Scott_  
 _Some friend you are._  
 _The power is yours, bro.  
Help a guy out_

_From: Scott  
Captain Planet, really?_

_To: Scott  
Hey, you recognized it_

_From: Scott  
Still no, bro._

_To: Scott  
Fine. See if I help you with chem next week_

_From: Scott  
You know you totes will_

_To: Scott  
Fuck. Fine. Friday after school?_

***

_From: Lydia_  
 _Seriously, sweetums, your secrets are showing and it isn’t flattering.  
Shut your big trap!_

***

“This job is only one step above stripping,” Lydia said as she dropped off wings at Derek and Stiles’ table. Stiles gave her a look and she pointedly ignored it. “If only I were eighteen,” she sighed.

***

“You know, Der,” Lydia said after coming back with a refill on his strawberry lemonade, “I really think the guys should have to wear these tight tops too. It’s only fair I get to ogle at them while they’re ogling at me.”

***

_From: Lydia  
See, the trick is to make him think it was his idea._

_To: Lydia  
How the hell do I do that?_

_From: Lydia  
Bribery._

***

“So howsabouta blow-jay,” Stiles starts off.

“Is that a trick question?” Derek asks, after fully pulling himself through the other mans bedroom window.

“No?” Stiles hedges. “How would a blow job be a trick? I do not joke about such things.”

“Clearly.” Derek is not amused by Stiles lack of ‘suave’ and ‘debonair’. “Look, the finer art of seduction doesn’t include the phrase ‘howsabouta blow-jay’, FYI.”

Stiles makes an oh face, but the kind of oh face that means he understands, not orgasm. Because that would be weirdly premature of him to cum at just the thought of giving a blow job. “Humor me.”

Derek sighs and gives the pinchy face. “There is no mood whatsoever. Any mood this could have had was ruined with the ‘howsabouta’.”

“I think it got my point across!” Stiles blushes, though. Because Derek is totally right. “Just. I dunno. Try creating a mood. Maybe strip for me?” 

Derek gets a thoughtful look on his face for a moment. And Stiles keeps his hopeful expression as still and in character as possible since any minor facial movement would totally betray his real feelings of ‘oh my god yes I’m totally getting a striptease’.

“I’m not good at those,” Derek finally settles with.

“And I’m not good at being tactful, we all have our weaknesses.”

After a few more seconds of obvious mental war, Derek finally settles on, “Fine.”

There is a long pause where Derek doesn’t move for a while. He’s probably calculating what to do next, but Stiles doesn’t do well with silence, so he interrupts with, “Should I put on some music?” Derek glares. “Is that a no?”

Derek finally climbs off the bed and walks over to the door. “Your dad isn’t home is he?” Derek asks.

“No,” Stiles assures him.

Derek fully shuts the bedroom door and turns back towards Stiles. He stiffly starts to move in what Stiles assumes is a dance. He tries really hard not to giggle as Derek toes off his shoes. He gets back into a groove and Stiles really wishes he knew what song was playing in Derek’s head because it looks like it could be techno instead of Girls Girls Girls.

Derek reaches for the hem of his shirt, and pulls it off while gyrating his hips, but it gets stuck on his muscular muscles and Derek has to stop dancing in order to un-stuck himself. Stiles can totally see a blush forming and pointedly ignores it. He will NOT be the one to break this mood – or lack of mood. But Derek recovers quickly until he reaches down and pulls off a sock and sling-shots it at Stiles on the bed.

“Derek has given Stiles a sock!” Stiles shrieks with Dobby-like enthusiasm.

“See! I knew this would happen! You are so not taking this seriously,” Derek whines. And to Stiles’ horror, stops dancing.

“Sorry!” Stiles replies. “Sorry, oh my god sorry, I’ll shut up now, please continue.”

It takes almost a full minute before Derek gets his boogie back, and starts traipsing his hands across his belt. He slowly pulls the belt from the loops and lets it drop to the floor before palming his crotch up to the button on his jeans. He undoes it, slowly walking towards Stiles. And, Stiles thinks, that’s probably why 4.6 seconds later, he has a Derek on his lap from where the other man could not keep walking as his pants fell to his ankles.

And Stiles cannot keep the laughter in. He tries. But his efforts to keep the guffaw inside only results in several snorting noises.

“I so told you I’m not good at this,” Derek says, untangling himself and standing up. He pointedly pulls his pants up and makes a grab at his shirt on the floor and starts to put it back on.

“Oh God! No!” Stiles manages through his giggles. “Please don’t, stop! Baha! I’m sorry, I don’t mean it!” And that gets Derek to at least look at him. Stiles keeps giggling for another few second before he really realizes that this is not how he would ever get Derek to try this again. So he goes for plan B – compliment, redirect, and make out. “That was really good – don’t give me that look, I’ve seen porn with worse rhythm.” Derek’s stern look at least lessens a little.

“Really?” he asks, and uncrosses his arms.

“Yeah! Totally!” Stiles lies. “Come on, come sit next to me.” Derek walks to the bed and sits stiffly next to Stiles. “You just need practice. I’ll just get you lessons for your birthday.”


	3. The one in which Derek exacts his revenge (sort of)

“Well this isn’t good,” Stiles says to himself. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Seriously not good.”

“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” Derek pipes up from the window.

Stiles shrieks. “Do you get your kicks from sneaking up on people? Like, is my screaming in terror sound bites for your spank bank later?” he accuses. “Cuz that shit has got to stop.” Only he’s not serious. Derek just smirks with that sorry, not sorry look on his face that he’s so good at. But there’s no time for a glare down, so Stiles gets to the point. “Give me back my clothes.”

Derek had planned this out really, really well. He sneaked into Stiles’ room right after Stiles woke up to get ready for school. So while Stiles was showering, Derek was going through Stiles’ closet. He took absolutely everything clothing-wise. All the pants, all the hoodies, all underwear and socks, all of the shirts and underarmour. Everything. So when Stiles left the bathroom, his only option was what was hanging up on the front of his closet door.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, stop being childish. You know you owe me one.” Derek had fully pulled himself into the window and was now sitting on Stiles’ bed.

“I know, but did it have to be this?” Stiles actually whines. He doesn’t even feel bad about it, either. He totally gets to whine.

Derek just continues to smirk. “Hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

And that is how Stiles got revenge-bribed into a Sexy Dorothy costume for Halloween. It even came with garters for crying out loud. “This is so not going to be school appropriate. Just look how short that skirt is! I’m totally going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Lydia –“

“That bitch!”

“ – already looked up the dress code for me, and, yes, it is appropriate. No, you won’t get arrested for indecent exposure.”

***

Derek was even kind enough to drop Stiles off at school. There was a wolf whistles coming at him from all directions as he got out of the Camero.

Stiles’ stomach drops at the thought of walking into school like this and of making it through the whole day like this. He whorls around, briefly wondering how high his skirt hiked up, and starts clicking his heels together. “There’s no place like home, Derek, there’s no place like home.”

“Do not even!” comes Lydia’s voice to Stiles’ right. He didn’t even notice her stalking up to this private conversation. “Derek, don’t listen to him, he’s – “

“Your boyfriend and I totally wasn’t this mean!”

“ – a whiny baby, and I swear to God, Der, you’ve got one too many Jiminy Crickets on your shoulder if you let Stiles back into this car.”

Derek contemplates for a minute, and actually looks like he’s weighing his options. Lydia and Stiles are both figuratively on the edge of their seats, each obviously wishing for the other’s opposite. But when Derek makes his decision and his eyebrows go up suggestively, neither is 100% certain which direction that meant until he hits the unlock button and says, “So howsabout that blow-jay?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd truly love to know if you caught all the pop culture references in this fic. :)
> 
> I'd love to hear from you all on my [tumblr](http://pornographicrainbowlegs.tumblr.com/).


End file.
